Category Archives: Odes

It looks like I put on a few pounds since that last video. The last vid was shot back in March 2014, exactly two years ago next month. I put on at least 30 pounds since then but I’m less stressed, not as fatigued and my hair actually looks healthier now than it did while I was a stress ball.

I’m a lot happier now. I’m happier simply because I don’t have to massage as many people which was my plan all along and in a round-a-bout way, my plan worked. I was a mess back then. A complete mess.

And now I’m moving into a more professional location in the center of town. My sign will be visible to the highest density of traffic in the area. I’m moving up, but paying less.

I think, but I’m not sure, but yes I do think that this may be the beginning of my idleness. The door is open and I’m limping out into the sunlight and what do I see? A world of slow moving, dilly-dallying ice-cream drippers. A life of no pressure. A life where you don’t need to eat the ice-cream before it melts.

It’s running down the back of my hand

Creamy cold sticky sweet

My mouth is covered in white

And my shirt is speckled with drops

of delight

I’m talking about melty ice-cream….

My body aches

my shoes untied

disheveled and weary

my brain is fried

Alas this is no more!

I taken myself off

the work schedule-ore!

Yeah, I’m not on the schedule at work anymore. I am strictly by request only. I can’t retire altogether from massage, at least not yet I can’t. But I can make it damn hard to book with me.

This by no means portends that I’m out of hot water. It just means that I’m done. Physically, I’m done. But the hot water is certainly still there.

Burning my feet

red as a beet

I jump out onto cold-

ice but it’s sleek

Thin and brittle it cracks

I bess’ be watchin’ my ass

so I jump on a rock

with a hard place above

and I pound on my confinement and yell

“WHAT THE FOCK?”

I’m in hot water, I’m on thin ice, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Where the hell are my parents? It’s past midnight. I just ate a cold tube of kielbasa out of a plastic baggy. I’m all alone here.

My parents are probably at the cottage in Rhode Island living it up with my brother and his girlfriend. One big party. While I’m home playing a video game that I already beat and stuffing my face with cold tubes of kielbasa.

At thirty-fucking-five-years-old!

Just give me a minute world…..I’ll join you soon. Not yet, but soon. It’s just that you’re so damn demanding of my time that I’d rather hide from you.

My new goal is to garner 50 more members. I’ll be high rolling it biggie style with gold teeth and shit if I had 50 more members.

My member count now? After getting rid of the members with declined credit cards and who haven’t been in for a while, my total active member count is 147. Earlier today, before abolishing the non-paying members, it was 154.

Fuck this shit I swear. I’m sick of this member count shit. I’m sick of all this shitty shit that goes on in my head.

Shitty shitty bang bang

in my head

splat goes the sound

of my brains on the ground

Burp fart giggle wriggle

it lies there to jiggle

Shitty shitty bang bang

in my head

What I’m really sick of? Massaging people. But you know that already.

I don’t care if you’re handsome

I don’t care if you’re nice

I don’t care if you’re clean

and don’t carry lice

You want me to rub you

with lotion

and oil

and the pain starts in my ass

that I proclaim royal

It’s not personal,

I’m sure you’re grand

It’s just that I’d rather do

something else with my hand

Um, okay, now there’s a weird unexplained noise I’m hearing.

It’s pouring outside.

Oh It’s my parents that just got home. Where the hell did they go?

Hold on……

The casino of course.

It’s so weird, when I wrote my last post I was a depressed mess and now I’m looking back on it like it never happened. It’s almost like the person who wrote that post is not me – the person I was, but not anymore.

When did I write it? Was it yesterday? I tell ya, when I let go, I really let go.

I don’t want to dive into that crap anymore. It’s useless crap. And figuring out why things happen and how to overcome stupid shit is also useless.

There’s something about that thing I wrote at the end tho, the “no effort” part. That’s about the only part that isn’t entirely useless.

It’s the dwelling that’s pointless. Dwelling that my brother won’t speak to me because I’m trying to build up my business that was inevitably going to happen? Why? Why dwell?

Honestly, it was inevitable. He should’ve known that and he shouldn’t have bought a spa next to mine.

Anyway, I think I’m all rhymed out for now. It takes me less time to think up rhymes than it does to actually write normally.

I will join the world soon though. Right after I get all the members I need. I have plans. Big plans to make it happen as soon as possible.

I have to get used to this foray of deliciousness for when I move out of my parents house. When I move out, I’ll post pic’s of ramen noodles with an egg dropped in, or spam with a slathering of mayo on a cracker. My tummy is already making crazed YUM sounds.

I’m in work waiting for my next client. I have three 90 minute sessions back to back. It feels like a prison sentence.

I shouldn’t be feeling like this!

I thought it would be different owning my own business – and it IS different and better in so many ways, but I don’t want to be here. I am not a massage therapist, although everyone loves me and they all think I’m great at it (I made over a grand this week!). But this isn’t me. If this were me, every day would feel like an adventurous challenge – a way of developing my true limitless potential.

But instead, I have to give three 90 minute massage while I’m half-asleep.

I need a plan. Planning has to do with looking at my future.

“Well, duh.”

“Shush, quiet you!”

Planning my future is not what escapists such as myself, like to do.

First 90 minute client done.

My Escapist Self wants to buy a motorcycle and my Planning Self wants to move out of my parents house and go to college. My heart wants both things, but which is smarter? Aha, now that’s the question.

Damn. I’m not a planner. Looking at the future feels like looking down a long hard road devoid of fun, you know what I mean? I’m a pleasure seeker and not a nut gatherer. Especially when my dreams feel unobtainable. My cheeks can’t fit all the nuts I want.

“Ha ha, can’t munch on all those tasty nuts huh?”

“Keep quiet you!”

I’m finally sticking up for myself in my inner dialog. I’m not crazy anymore! Haha, you’re the nut! No you are!

My brother got in a fight with his girlfriend so now he’s living back home sleeping on the couch with his big boxer dog, Cassius. Our basement is destroyed with his stuff. It’s never been more cluttered or more messy. His clothes are lying everywhere in the bathroom, along with his array of top-notch beauty products.

My brother is a big masculine man with tattoo’s and a shaved head, but he has more beauty products than I do. I have soap and shampoo, while he has moisturizers, eye creams, face wash. And on some nights, he brings his new girlfriend over for a slumber party. She’s is in her 40’s, clearly a milf, and they both enjoy sleeping on the couch together while Cassius, the slobber geyser, jumps all over them in their peaceful slumber.

I hate to say it but when I’m 40, I hope to never find myself sharing a couch with a big man and his meat-head dog living in his parents demolished basement. I can safely say that I never possessed the patience for that kind of stuff.

Call me a princess, but I always preferred the sanctity of my own bed.

Or maybe I just never loved anyone that much…..Yep, that sounds about right.

But being the social sort that I am, I enjoy him and his girlfriend living with me in my dark cave dwelling. It’s like having a live-in drinking buddy who makes killer Bloody Mary’s.

Anyway, my brother isn’t a planner either. All his life, he depended on other people. This is what happens when you depend on other people. You’re left with nothing in the end. It’s the same thing as depending on others to fill your void – the void of not believing or loving yourself. If you can’t fill the void yourself, you’ll be left with nothing in the end.

People turn to God, booze, drugs, or cling to relationships. They do this to escape the loneliness (which I shall write about in my next post).

Where are you second 90 minute client?

My top TOP priority at the moment is paying off my debt. I have around $4,700 in the bank, and I owe $4,500. Okay, scratch that. I only owe $3,200 (I just paid my bill online whilst we speaketh).

Damn, this guy isn’t showing up. He’s 11 minutes late.

Second client done.

It’s now the next day. And once again, I’m here at work.

Boop bee boop.

So tired….

I have stuff I want to write but I’ll save it for a different post.

I just want to add real quick that this whole job of future planning crap reminds me of walking the Camino.

I walked and walked, trying to figure out why I was walking until I realized, “my purpose is the walk itself. I’m here to see if I can accomplish the long walk.”

After having that insight, my head straightened and my gait metamorphosed into a focused and determined stride. I walked with a purpose after figuring out the most obvious answer to why I was there.

Purpose….

An obtainable goal….

These two things are intertwined. The minute I find my ultimate purpose (escape), I will put all my effort into my business. If my business can lift me up to an obtainable goal, my eyes will become clear. I’ll find my dignity.

I have a looming suspicion that if I settle on how things are now, I will lose my fire, lose myself, and worse of all – become even more stupider than I already am.

Peace out trouts!

I’m going to dig in my toes for grout.

Humming a melody of sweet sorrowful pride,

while I dig in my toenails to see what’s hidden inside.

*

*

Ohh-kay…I have no idea where that came from. But yes, I do take pride in taking care of my own feet.

Share this:

Like this:

I’m sick today. I’m sick and my brain refuses to wake up. I have Buddy the Elf’s maple syrup lodged between my ears. I will pour my syrup brain into my blog before pouring it all over my spaghetti dinner.

Let’s begin this sticky brigade of gluey words, shall we?

First, let’s address my current state of mind. I’ll address it and analyze the crap out of it by utilizing savory digestible analogies. Analogies covered with maple syrup that is.

I am sickeningly lazy. And when I’m run down (like I am today), my loafing skills become deeply enhanced. I want to plan my next big leap in life, but every enticing road I look down feels exhausting.

Every road, every choice, and every possible outcome looks exhausting and unfathomable. It’s like my post, Perspective: Embarrassment vs Fortunate, never happened. I am too weak, too lazy, and too dumb to accomplish anything. I am stuck. I’m not good enough, nor am I brilliant enough, for anything.

I can see this shift so clearly. I can see why people settle into their fears and illusions. They are comforting. Accepting that you’re incapable of doing what others can, gives you peace (or depression and resentment when dealing with your peers, but I already wrote about that not too long ago). When you know you can’t do something, you lose your desire to accomplish it. You lose your desire, and praise the people who can do what you (and others) can’t.

The fire goes out in you, but you shine it on somebody else – someone who offers you hope and amenity against the gnawing fear of incompleteness (lack of faith). The burden gets lifted and placed on stronger shoulders. Shoulders that you appoint more value to than your own (but peers should be of equal value, that’s where resentment comes from).

Ah, what a relief.

You appoint yourself a representative. Someone who is capable of achieving your goals and can clearly state what’s in your heart.

“If they can do it, that’s enough for me. I accept myself and my life as it is.”

I write a lot about letting go, but you should never let go of your dreams – you let go of your fears, butnever your dreams. Even if that dream hurts you, your light inside will never grow cold.

In my current state of physical and mental health, I desire nothing but rest. Nobody’s praising me these days.

Ayahuasca told me that everything in this world is a game. Everything!

Ego games to be more precise. They are ego, self-fulfilling games bereft of compassion by means of using our ego, reptilian laced monkey brains to survive and win.

(Walking the Camino was an ego game. Although, nobody would ever admit to it.)

And wherever there is judgement and inequality, there will be war.

Where there is no compassion, there is no honesty. Without honesty, there is no understanding. And without understanding, there is blind judgement and “justice”.

When you stop believing in yourself, compassion for yourself is gone. It’s like holding up the white flag to your fears. And since you lack compassion for yourself, you judge yourself based on your ineptitude.

You feel the need to shine your light onto someone else (to ease the burden), but you end up judging them too. You judge them for the same reasons why you judge yourself. Their ineptitude only emphasizes your own. You want to beat it out of them with “tough love” because no one (not even yourself) gave you the compassion (understanding) you needed in the time you were calling for it.

Hurting others is a way to stop the hurt that’s inside you.

When you believe you’re not good enough (or doubt arises), you stop playing your game and instead, you play someone else’s. Whoever you give your praise to, you fight their fight. You become a pawn in their battle. They see your white flag waving in the stench of despair and will gladly hold you close to their bosom.

This is why people gossip. To find pledges of allegiance to those willing to fight on their side. The more pledges, the more powerful.

Even if you’re an escapist like I am, you’re still playing at being a pawn. Unless you’re living on your own island, you will always be a pawn in the grand scheme of things. Interdependence of everything, remember?

Ayahuasca told me that ego is an illusion and that all the world is an illusion, inbred with ego. She told me that everything is a game, but it can be immensely fun and rewarding to play in these games. If that is, you get off your lazy ass and play instead of having someone else move your pieces around for you.

I want to start a new game. A new goal. And like with any game, it’s self-fulfilling.

In my particular game, it’s a war against my laziness and inability to commit to anything. I have to act as my own cold compassionate mirror (as we all do), in order to keep the fire lit inside me. So I don’t lose clarity of what’s important – faith in myself, and compassion for everyone (including myself).

You can lose yourself in a game. Being aware of your intensions keeps you locked in understanding (compassion) mode.

No one but myself can lift my passive (lazy) burden. If I wanted to accept my laziness, I’ll have to accept depending on other people. I’ll shine my light on them. Becoming their pawn, their property. Letting them tell me what to do, what to believe, and what to fight for. And if I don’t like it, I’ll only have myself to blame.

The game against my idleness is the game bestowed upon me by the universe. It’s my true game. It’s why I’m here. It’s the game I’m supposed to be playing, but I continually escape from it.

I escape by settling into my little business, one that offers me everything I need. I have 14 clients this week, 9 of which I’ve seen before. Yes I can live on this, but this road lacks challenges. This road doesn’t expand myself by letting me witness my true potential. Taking a motorcycle trip, writing a blog, a book, seeing the world and such, all those are escapes. Escaping from the real work I still need to do. The real work I have to commit myself to doing.

The Camino was an ego game, sure, but the purpose of the game was to instill faith in myself that I can actually do it. Games are meant to instill faith in ourselves and we can’t escape the suffering that’s needed to broaden and strengthen us.

This is why life is suffering, so we can find faith.

I want to move out of my parents house, but I don’t want to work the extra hours to cover the cost. So what do I do since I don’t wish to fight this fight? I live at my parents house, putting the burden on them (although they love this particular burden).

Life would be so much easier if I settled down with someone. But it’s not my time. I know it’s not my time because I haven’t found the one. Read my “Why I Don’t Date” trilogy and you’ll understand.

I am not complete yet. I have to work on myself first. I have to play this stupid game that the universe keeps shoving in my face, and maybe, just maybe when I’m old and grey, when there’s a little more compassion in the world, I’ll settle down.

If I settled down now, I’ll either be completely miserable, or divorced in a few years. I’ll have years of regret wishing I didn’t escape my one particular battle. Marrying someone now, would be just another way to escape and forget.

“Choose your game wisely.” Ayahuasca said.

“You DO have to choose.” Is what I say. Choose it before it chooses you. Choose it before whoever you are inside is eaten away.

I taken pharmaceutical grade speed two days ago. Only, I didn’t know it was speed. It looked like the same harmless pill I found in my pocket the other day (I wrote about that here). The pill in my pocket didn’t hurt me, so I didn’t think twice before swallowing another.

It’s no wonder I stayed up all night playing Heavy Rain. I was on speed!

“What’s this do?” I say while the pill slid down my gullet.

“It’s like speed.”

“This is speed? Holy crap I like it. It’s like drinking a ton of beer without feeling drunk.”

That’s the best way I can describe it. Courage in pill form.

I was hanging out with a couple of guys who conveniently live down the street from me. We were hopped up on speed, engrossed in thought, and talking fervently about life. It was one of the best seven-hour conversations I ever had. Are all seven-hour conversations good? Or just the one’s where everyone’s on speed?

We talked until 4 in the morning and when I got home, I wanted to play my video game. I wanted to blog and play my game. But I ended up commenting on peoples status updates instead.

Speed is like being in the zone where all your best idea’s and thoughts reside. You can tell when it starts to wear off when your idea’s stop sounding fantastic. Or maybe speed only makes you think your idea’s sound fantastic? I can’t tell..

But that’s the last time for me. I like it, yeah, but it gives me insomnia. There are negative consequences for every pill you ingest. Insanity and insomnia being my two least favorite.

But you want to know the horrible truth? If I were to go away for a while, to be away from my job, my friends, my family, and if I were to be someplace where I can focus on my book in peace – I would want to bring speed.

(Thailand would be my choice for this because it’s cheap).

Writing a book while hopped up on speed sounds exhilarating to me. And it’s a pharmaceutical grade prescription, it’s not illegal. It’s for people with ADD and have trouble focusing.

So…

It’s not like I’d be hurting anyone, right? And who know’s, maybe I DO have ADD. Calling this medicine “speed” gives it bad connotations. It’s medicine and should be treated as such. Respected and not abused.

It’s on my bucket list. To write a book while on speed (pharmaceutical grade – prescribed medicine).

But just one book. One book and I’ll stop.

I wrote before about how addictions sprout up whenever you lack faith in yourself – that you’re not enough (or life isn’t enough) and you need help, you need something to fill you. Well, that’s exactly what this is. And according to ayahuasca, it’s a sin. It’s lacking faith in God.

Share this:

Like this:

After writing that last post, I played Heavy Rain till the bitter end. It was morning by the time I beat it.

I didn’t want to play it all night. I wanted sleep. I swallowed a sleeping pill hoping it’ll force me into shutting the game off. I also found half a pill tucked away inside my hoodie.

“Where’d this come from?”

I still don’t know, but I swallowed it down alongside the sleeping pill.

People like giving me drugs. I don’t even ask for them. I found a joint rolled up nicely in the same pocket.

“Where the hell didI get this? Oh yeah…”

I forgot that I married two people a few weeks ago. I’m a certified Dudeist priestess that can legally marry people because I printed out an online certificate that gives me the right. And as a thank you, I was handed a joint.

But I never turned the game off nor did I sleep. Instead, I took a shower and went to the Triple A in Hamden where I can finally buy a new drivers license.

I lost my license four months ago and been using an expired one ever since.

“Would I get in trouble if I got pulled over and showed the cop an expired license?”

The woman helping me widened her eyes and nodded her head as if to say, “hell yeah bitch you be trippin’.”

I was so tired, and everything I did felt like a game. The way I walked, the words I spoke, my every move – everything I did felt like an RPG (role playing game) and every action had a consequence. Every choice I made effected the course of future events.

“Whoa.”

I was still in the game.

It’s now a couple days later. After going to AAA, I went to my brother’s holiday party at the spa he owns across the street from my house. As soon as I walk in, I was greeted by my niece who sat at the entryway welcoming people as they entered.

Then I saw my cousins mingling with clients and friends, jazzy holiday music played in the background. It was warm and alive inside.

Massage therapists preformed chair massages, aestheticians gave facials, manicurists gave manicures, hair dressers cut hair, a young blonde receptionist scheduled appointments and sold products to a flood of people.

The party was a success. And once again, I found myself as a voyeur looking into one of those moments of sentimental fullness where I find myself appreciating just how lucky I am.

“It’s bad to wallow in sentimentality.” The tarot reader told me. “It’s like being sucked into an eddie and not living in the flow of life.”

I accepted the emotion and let it pass. I was no longer outside the moment, but was welcomed into it.

It’s now Friday, three days after the party. I can’t seem to focus on my blog lately. The book I’m writing is collecting dust. I seem to be in a state of transition. The universe is waiting for my next move.

No billows sweep me out to sea

No tides or gusts to chaperone me

Time is what I have of much

and money saved from anointing touch

I can plan and whisper to myself…

Will this life be entire?

Will it be enough?

It’s your move Mel, what’ll er be?

Come ashore or drift out to sea.

I wouldn’t have this problem if I knew who I wanted to be. I have so many freaking interests! And my ginormous ego thinks it can accomplish anything. That’s the problem. But I get bored after some time – no matter what I do, I get bored. It’s inevitable.

“Is this all there is?”

When I was walking the Camino, I decided to be a psychologist. I have a knack for knowing and understanding people. But I walked some more and thought to myself, “I don’t want to listen to depressed people complain all day on why life sucks and how unfair it is. It’s all in their heads and they’ll keep circulating and circulating. They’ll call me up looking for answers but in the end they can only help themselves. And I’ll be one of those shrinks who solve clients problems with pharma magic happy pills.”

No thanks…

But I have to decide. I can’t massage people for the rest of my life. It’s too easy. Too boring.

And I know for certain that whatever I decide to do, it has to be incredibly exciting. I want to be able to think and use my own mind and judgement. I want to solve puzzles not involving math. I want to work alone, but with people at the same time. And if I find a job where I can help others, that’ll be a bonus. I have massive skills in empathy and with being a great judge of character. I know how people think (which ends up depressing me half the time.)

It would be nice traveling the world with my blog in tow, yeah, but where’s that pinnacle moment of shared experience? Where’s the ending? Like finishing a project, or solving a puzzle. I want that feeling of completion, you know? I want to climb intellectual mountains. I want to be of value to people, and not just valuable to myself.

When I reached Santiago after walking 500 miles, that doesn’t mean Santiago didn’t exist before I been there to see it. I want to be Santiago, be the mountain. I want to find something that wasn’t there before I arrived. Something I can show to others.

I know exactly what I want. Now I just need to find the right profession that fits the criteria. It should feel exactly like being in love.

Right at this moment, I know exactly what I want, but I still don’t have a grasp on who I am because I don’t have that vessel outside myself to help inspire/design my image. That’s all it is really, an image. God has no face, remember?

When you find real love, it’s like seeing yourself for the first time. You’re able to see yourself because someone else see’s you. It’s the highest form of inspiration when you find something outside yourself that encapsulates your soul. It’s the fullness of emptiness. Infinite potential. You become nothing and everything.

All hidden within a blink, a glance, a smile, a touch, an idea. You find your face. The one that best matches your heart.

You fall in love and want the whole world to know about it. Not only do you want the world to know, but you want them to be in love too. You want others to know what it feels like so you’re not alone in it.

When you’re doing what you love to do, you fall in love with life. Anything becomes possible. I fell in love with remaining open to the vast possibilities and hated the idea of settling into something that I can’t easily get out of. But now that fear is gone. I can always find a way out so long as I play my cards right (spider solitaire taught me that).

Do I want to be a pharmacologist? No, too much school and too much math. I’m in love with the simple idea of it, but cringe at organic chemistry.

I would be an exceptional nurse (I’m crazy compassionate), but I have little interest.

I would love to be an EMT, but the stress is overwhelming.

I could follow in my grandpa’s footsteps and be a mechanical engineer, but that entails sitting in front of a desk all day looking at graph paper and sharpening pencils.

I could follow in my nana’s footsteps and become a real estate broker, but I’m no salesman.

Being a teacher is out of the question. In sixth grade I couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to go to school for 12 years, graduate, go to more school, graduate, and come back to school to teach everything they learned in school.

I can be an artist, but that’s not the intellectual mountain I want to climb.

But I want to do something! I have no plan, no goal.

For the time being, I’m in the perfect place. I love my job, but I can do more. I want to push my potential. The spa industry isn’t it.

It’s like I’m in the waiting zone. For 34 years I’ve been in a waiting room. Shit, am I really 34? No, I think I’m 33. What year is it?

Not to mention I’m dumb and lazy. The dumbness comes from laziness.

All the jobs I listed above, I’m either too lazy for, or they’ll eventually get boring. I need to find the middle zone between slack and tension. Like how my body feels when I swim.

I’m drowning 😦

Here’s a cartoon that depicts real love over illusion. Illusions are made when you attach yourself to things in order to feel safe and secure. It’s not real. Just like being employed at a job that offers safety and comfort. We escape pain and avoid being scared, but at what price?

Any attachment you have, no matter what it is, is an illusion. And when you’re in real love with a person or a job, faith and infinite potential replaces attachment. You realize that you don’t need anything, but you desire it. You desire it because you care about it. And anything’s possible because you found faith in yourself.

Finding compassion in others, to me, is my only need. It’s only compassion from others that keeps us afloat. But I don’t want to need it. I want to have faith that it’ll always be there. If I have faith it’ll always be there, there’s no need to get attached to it.

But I see so little of it. Everyone’s scared and almost everybody see’s only themselves. Hence the cause of my latest depression.

Maybe there’s a job out there that would allow me to confront this fear. I shouldn’t be afraid of not seeing compassion in people. I have to train myself to not be dependent on it. It’s a part of life and I have to accept it.

I’m scared of indifference. There’s nothing more vile than indifference. Indifference is the opposite of empathy.

Somebody found my blog a few days ago by searching “I want my alcoholic daughter out of my life.” It broke my heart. She’s your daughter and she’s in pain!

But the world is like that. It’s my greatest fear and my greatest attachment.

I’m a registered minister, or you can call me a priest, a rabbi, a reverend – it don’t matter. You can call me anything and I’ll grin a big healthy grin and marry you when you least expect it.

I can marry you to your pet fish if the mood strikes me right.

I’m involved with the church of the latter-day dude, otherwise known as Dudeism. Here’s their website.

I am now a true blooded Dude, only I wear clean clothes (most of the time), and my stomach’s not hairy (okay, maybe a little).

Anyway, putting my awesomeness aside, my date went well yesterday. I’m not much in the story-telling mood at the moment being that it’s already past midnight, so I’ll just say it went well. The guy’s nice. Not sure if he’s a Dude or not, but he’s nice. He friended me on Facebook so now we are Dude brothers.

Besides that…

I read one of my old posts from February 2012 (you can read it here) and came across my old list of goals. I actually checked off three out of the five on this list!

1) Hike the Himalaya’s.

2) Come back home and save $2000 for an aromatherapy oxygen bar machine.

3) Start my own business.

4) Take a few college classes.

5) By the summer of 2013, go backpacking through Europe. I don’t care if I go it alone – it would probably be great if I was alone. It will finally be the time alone that I craved for so long.

This list was compiled just before the universe dumped a big steaming pile of sense on my head. The same type of sense that fills the air with the stinking realization of what an idiot I had been.

And now that I’m no longer an idiot, but a certified Dude – imagine all that I can accomplish NOW!

So I made a new list:

1.) Pay off my debt by February 2014

2.) In the summer of 2014, go cross-country on a motorcycle

3.) Finish and publish my first book by next year

4.) Buy a multifamily house after going cross-county

5.) See Italy

6.) Sponsor a kid from Guatemala

This is proof that everything I’m going to accomplish next year is planned ahead of time. See? It’s all written here in black and white!

Next year after I buy my house, you can refer back to this post and say to yourself, “Damn, this girl really does do everything she says she’s gonna do. I wish I can be like her. Oh how I love her. You sweet, sweet thing that I dream of every waking hour of everyd….”

No no stop that now, no need for that. I know I’m awesome but keep your pants on.

Stay tuned for more in-depth coverage of a girl trying to break free. A girl up against all odds. A girl who’s….who’s….bah, I don’t know. Let’s just say I have very little at the moment. No money, I live at home with my parents, I drink, I’m lazy, I play video games…etc.

You wait and see world what this Dude’s gonna do! Dudes gonna do, that’s my motto. Dude does. Dude Do. The Dude Do the guru.

It clarifies simplicity and sets the record straight. That I am my own maker, it is I who can create.

To quell the froth of babble in my head that is on top, and listen to the beat of reason from the fizz of my soda pop.

Everything so simple, made hard to bear with fear. Fear of thine own uncertainty, I drench these thoughts with beer.

I turn off the fizz and lay awake.

Thoughts arise I cannot shake.

Drama and fiction juice up my drive.

I stew in the remnants of all I contrive.

I must work, I must rub. Another old man with chub. I set goals, answer calls, buy socks at shopping malls. I’m okay, I still breathe – I stay afloat on my knee’s. I beg you to pardon my

old baggy jeans.

I get up, I go out

Into town I loll about.

Squawking and squabbling like a dunderhead clout.

I chip away what’s most dear, my soul inside with the answers so clear.

I chisel away, no time to chastise. The last ounce escapes, leaving me with big goofy doll eyes.

It is gone, the last shimmering wisp. A Gust of wind taken it up and set it adrift.

Now I am free to a life of certainty. I can control all fears with actions derived

from the mundane human interference of controlling the tides.

Go to school, go to work

Massage the next jerk

Go home, wash the sheets

Listen to how serenely my heart does NOT leap

I lay in bed so dead

Stare at the tv screen

No new thought in my head

No need for beer when life is so stable

No need for questions as long as my body is able

To get up another day, wash the sheets, dry my hair

Done all unblinking, done all without care

I’m back in my bed

Emptiness abounds

I wonder what’s gone,

Then I hear a rapping, a tapping of sounds.

Coming from my window, I get up

Lift the blinds

Outside I see it, my soul beckons, it shines

“I need this after all, I can’t deny she’s not here. She stands quietly gazing, this beauty of light without fear.”

I take her up in my arms and swallow her whole. She squirms in my stomach –

it’s hard to digest,

my soul.

I keep her in place, letting her out while I write. I repress her during most of the day and during the night. I condense and compress, keeping her squished good and tight

into a mighty ball of fury, but she does not fight.

It’s been months and it’s been days to densen and contract, she grows heavy and sits as a pit wanting me to extract.

“Calm down in there, your day will soon come. Stop wiggling so much, you weigh a ton.”

She flattens my lungs, crushes my heart

Something starts piercing through all my vital parts.

My spleen gets punctured, my stomach rup-tured

“Why did I swallow you again? You’re more of a curse than my zen.”

My soul stirs and awakens – her fizz fuzzing my nose, “You suffered enough, can’t you see? I’m all that you were and will EVER be. You kept me here so long in your womb, you nurtured me with creative knowing but this incubator is really a tomb! I am your prize for at the end and for the start. Now push me out of your damned-up hymen, I am you – your polished star, I’m your diamond.”

“But how do I do it? Won’t it hurt to try? I never gave birth. I don’t want to cry.”

“But that’s just what you’re doing while keeping me here. You cry out in pain but your only reason is vain. You choose to weaken, to play out your fears – to live by circumstance ANDconsume beers.”

It’s late at night as I lay here fighting sleep. Seven massages tomorrow steal my soul to weep. It’s almost done, this Groupon uncharted. I lost count of redeems, reason for my soul

Congratulations!Today is your day.You’re off to Great Places!You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.You have feet in your shoesYou can steer yourselfany direction you choose.You’re on your own. And you know what you know.And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.

You’ll look up and down streets. Look ’em over with care.About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.”With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,you’re too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find anyyou’ll want to go down.In that case, of course,you’ll head straight out of town.

It’s opener therein the wide open air.

Out there things can happenand frequently doto people as brainyand footsy as you.

You’ll be on your way up!You’ll be seeing great sights!You’ll join the high flierswho soar to high heights.

You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed.You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead.Wherever you fly, you’ll be the best of the best.Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

You can get all hung upin a prickle-ly perch.And your gang will fly on.You’ll be left in a Lurch.

You’ll come down from the Lurchwith an unpleasant bump.And the chances are, then,that you’ll be in a Slump.

And when you’re in a Slump,you’re not in for much fun.Un-slumping yourselfis not easily done.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?Or go around back and sneak in from behind?Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confusedthat you’ll start in to racedown long wiggled roads at a break-necking paceand grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.The Waiting Place…

…for people just waiting.Waiting for a train to goor a bus to come, or a plane to goor the mail to come, or the rain to goor the phone to ring, or the snow to snowor waiting around for a Yes or a Noor waiting for their hair to grow.Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to biteor waiting for wind to fly a kiteor waiting around for Friday nightor waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jakeor a pot to boil, or a Better Breakor a string of pearls, or a pair of pantsor a wig with curls, or Another Chance.Everyone is just waiting.

With banner flip-flapping,once more you’ll ride high!Ready for anything under the sky.Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!

Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done!There are points to be scored. there are games to be won.And the magical things you can do with that ballwill make you the winning-est winner of all.Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be,with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.

Except when they don’t.Because, sometimes, they won’t.

I’m afraid that some timesyou’ll play lonely games too.Games you can’t win’cause you’ll play against you.

All Alone!Whether you like it or not,Alone will be somethingyou’ll be quite a lot.

And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chanceyou’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.There are some, down the road between hither and yon,that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.

But on you will gothough the weather be foulOn you will gothough your enemies prowlOn you will gothough the Hakken-Kraks howlOnward up manya frightening creek,though your arms may get soreand your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hikeand I know you’ll hike farand face up to your problemswhatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course,as you already know.You’ll get mixed upwith many strange birds as you go.So be sure when you step.Step with care and great tactand remember that Life’sa Great Balancing Act.Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?Yes! You will, indeed!(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Brayor Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea,you’re off to Great Places!Today is your day!Your mountain is waiting.So…get on your way!

My old substitute teacher, Mr. Thomas, knew Dr. Seuss. They went to school together at Dartmouth and he said that Seuss carried around a wooden staff that he carved all of his funning looking cartoon characters on before they were famous.

I can picture the young creative Seuss as a college student strutting his stuff with his carved wooden staff in hand. It paints an enchanted picture. A freshly mowed field, shiny polished shoe’s, big white smile in springtime and Seuss humming tunes straight from the parody of everyday living.

Gotta love Seuss.

Mr. Thomas was super old, super Irish and just about the most adorable man you could ever possibly meet. He was a character straight out of Tolkien. Living a happy peaceful life in a big luxurious tree stump with other little hobbits. No, kidding. But the guy was truly magical (and tiny).

For Mr. Thomas to have known Seuss personally, makes perfect sense to me. It’s so funny how a simple little man from high school can unwittingly add a tiny pinch of sugar that sweetens an otherwise ordinary life into something slightly more extraordinary. Simply by being himself and being my substitute teacher for a handful of times.

I love you Mr. Thomas! I love you Dr. Seuss!

Dr. Seuss adds his sugar simply by pouring it into his magical poetry for the world to become a better place.

I want to be brilliant someday. Wouldn’t that be something?

I really want to write a post about creativity and how to unlock it. I feel I’m so close to understanding how it’s done, but I never fully understand anything until I write about it.

Alas it must wait. I have 9 days of clients left. 9 days of massaging non-stop. A client canceled today, so I have this hour free. Well, it’s no longer an hour, more like 20 minutes left.

I’m tired. I need to breathe. I stayed up late last night watching YouTube video’s of the Burning Man in Nevada. My buddy from the Colombia retreat asked me to go. And let me just tell you, hole-lee-shit. It looks amazing. Absolutely freak-tastic amazing. I’m signing myself up, renting a car, driving across the country and popping a tent. Honestly I’m not sure what I’m more excited for, the Burning Man or 7 weeks in Spain.

My life is starting. Who I am is becoming….something.

Okay, need to publish and zone for five minutes before my next client gets here. I feel stupid today.

It’s 3am and I’m reading poems on the internet. I didn’t even attempt sleep. If I were high right now, I would think I’m out of my damn mind for staying up this late for no reason.

I would be saying to myself over and over, “It doesn’t make any sense. No sense at all. I’m confounded that I’m writing these very words to you at this very moment. How can this be? Why?”

I’m starting to get into poetry. I love and hate it. I have to siphon out the trash before I find the treasure, and there’s a lot of trash.

But I gotta say that when treasure hits, WOW. I mean seriously, wow. I’m reading the poem, reflecting on it, being subjective and yet at the same time envisioning what the poet must have been feeling while writing it. The poem drugs my brain – seriously feeling like I been drugged. It’s like saying “Ah haa yes! I get it!” But it’s so much more than that.

Or it can just be that it’s 3am.

Anyway, here’s the poem that did this to me:

Take this kiss upon the brow!And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow–You are not wrong, who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roarOf a surf-tormented shore,And I hold within my handGrains of the golden sand–How few! Yet how they creepThrough my fingers to the deep,While I weep–while I weep!O God! Can I not graspThem with a tighter clasp?O God! can I not saveOne from the pitiless wave?Is all that we see or seemBut a dream within a dream?

-Edger Allen Poe

I mean wow, come on now. Do you feel it? The pain, the anguish, the illusion, the inability to let go? I know I’m taking this poem to places where I can relate to it, but I see no other interpretation for it. It’s like, yeah, that’s life man. You got it, you really fucking got it.

Poe is the bro fo’ sho’ yo

His shit is shellacked

it glow

While I weep

Oh while I weep!

For the loss of

tonights sleep

The grains in my palm

Just 4 or five

mean

Nothing to no one

And yet they arrive

in my palm

So subtle and small

feeling their worth by their graininess

Barely nothing at all

Do they exist merely for me?

In this moment of time

compared to eternity?

No, this one moment,

with them in my hand

I return to the ocean,

And me,

The land

I have no idea what I just wrote…

Okay, it really is 3am., well, no. It’s 3:14. My eyes are completely blood shot. It was snowing all day – I was homebound all day. The plow truck got stuck in front of my house.

It’s not going to stop until tomorrow. Esmeralda the Escort is outside blanketed over looking like a cozy little igloo. Slowly shrinking as the ground rises. I can’t recall ever seeing anything like it.

Basically what I got from the poem is this:

Our dreams are as real as those little granules of sand. They mean nothing, and all just pretend. They only mean something if they mean something to you. Nothing is stopping them from returning to the ocean, only you can stop it, but why? And should you? They mean so little after all…And nothing is real. It all gets washed away in the end.